


The First Night

by LetsJustForget (WithallthisDelusion)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, First Kiss, Forced Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Modern Royalty, Prince Sherlock Holmes, Protective John Watson, Scarred John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithallthisDelusion/pseuds/LetsJustForget
Summary: It's the first night of many that John Watson wakes with a broken heart. The last night that Sherlock spends as a bachelor.//Sherlock is forced to marry for the sake of his family but finds comfort in his best friend on the night before his wedding.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s) Mentioned
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	The First Night

The stain underneath his wine glass was growing, the red Pinot Noir seeping deeper into the silk tablecloth, it’s once white base slowly decorated with spills and crumbs from the fine wine and meal. Slumped back in his chair was the man of the hour, Sherlock Holmes, as he watched the strangers around him becoming lost in conversations, oblivious to his presence and his thoughts.

Bringing his wine glass to his lips, Sherlock took another gulp. It was his fifth glass, and he was sure that his parents would have cut him off after the first two, but since it was a special occasion, they didn’t make a fuss at risk of starting a fight. Sherlock took advantage of this situation and easily gestured to one of the servants to refill his glass.

Standing from his table, Sherlock wobbled on his two feet. After finding his balance, Sherlock took another sip of his wine, making eye contact with a troubled servant who was waiting for him to fall over. The young prince smirked, departing from the table and creating some much-needed distance from the guests.

He knew it was coming. He had known of this day ever since he was twelve. He should have recognised his parents’ pattern after they married off his older brother Mycroft. They had been overly friendly and dotting in the past weeks. But after the wedding, Mycroft left, deciding to travel overseas and fight in nameless battles. One of the many reasons why Sherlock’s parents insisted on him getting married as soon as he turned eighteen, was to fill the gap Mycroft left.

Sherlock stumbled as he neared the arched pillar, the exit just in sight. He pushed himself off the wall, staring down at the wine staining his polished black shoes. He ignored it, forcing himself forward. He just needed to get out of this room, to get away from the faceless guests surrounding him and his parent’s caring eyes. And her eyes.

“Master Holmes?” A servant asked, the Prince frowned, resting his eyes on the short servant. “Do you need assistance?”

“Not unless you have any of the 7%?”

The servant frowned disapprovingly. “You should know that I’ve been trained to inform your parents if you were to request such things.” 

“Don’t tell them.” Sherlock muttered, “We don’t want to stress their little minds before the big day.”

The servant nodded, “Certainly sir, may I suggest you return to your room?”

Sherlock nodded, “Way ahead of you.” He grumbled, slipping past the servant and continuing towards the exit.

He was relieved when the servant didn’t follow him, it allowed Sherlock to make his way into the long corridor and make his way back to his room. He was desperate for a small bump of cocaine, he just needed something that would make him forget all about tomorrow’s plans. Or even better, something that would make him unable to even attend tomorrow’s torment.

A flutter of servants passed him in the hall, their wide eyes landing on him briefly before looking away shyly. He watched as the young ladies giggled to themselves before rounding the corner. Sherlock was over it. He had bedded most of the women that worked for his family, he was pretty certain that at least two of those women had woken up in his bed in the last year.

Everyone was shocked to find out that Sherlock was being married off so young. The public assumed it was his parent’s way of trying to keep him on the rails. Although in truth, Sherlock doubted it would even make a difference. He didn’t believe in being faithful, instead he only trusted money, status and power. Even at an early age, he knew that these were the defining factors within a relationship. Stories of love, loyalty and respect were merely fantasy fairy tales that were told to children. Sherlock’s bride-to-be didn’t inspire anything in Sherlock besides boredom. Sure, she was pretty, she had a friendly smile and was heavily religious. In the eyes of the Holmes family, she was a fine representation of the public. A Christian girl from a working-class family that was going to join Sherlock in ruling the country. Little did they know that she had already put out. The second time they met, which was only the week before, Sherlock managed to drag the cities, ‘innocent and pure Christian daughter’ to his bed. 

She didn’t speak to him after that, not until tonight. Whereby she mumbled a greeting, pressed a kiss to his cheek and sat beside her father for the dinner.

Sherlock couldn’t look at her throughout the night, a strange feeling of guilt was floating around in his stomach. He decided to drink the night away and try to find something to help him forget about it.

The Prince stumbled around the corner, finding his bedroom door. Standing beside it was his good friend and royal guard, John Watson. John was older than Sherlock, but still young at heart. He gave Sherlock a charming smile, before opening the door for him. Sherlock shoved his way into the room, grumbling over his shoulder. “Come on in John.”

He plopped himself down on the bed, spilling a large helping of his wine on the bedsheets as John watched on in pain. “How was the dinner?” John asked politely.

“Fucking awful.”

“Have you considered trying to postpone it? Take some time to figure out whether this is what you really want to do?” John said, his naïve and useless comments working wonders to ease the uncomfortable feeling in Sherlock’s chest.

“It’s fine, John.” Sherlock mumbled, drinking down his wine.

John shuffled on his feet, “She’s not going to make you happy.” He stated flatly. Sherlock sighed, finishing off his wine and then tossing it to the carpeted floor before falling back against the mattress. “I don’t think you should go through with the wedding.”

It was the same argument that John had been pushing onto Sherlock for the past few nights. He was so determined to help Sherlock, but just couldn’t accept that no matter what, the Prince’s future was already planned for him. Sherlock ran his hand down his face, pushing firmly at his eyes until he saw a burst of stars. He didn’t want to hurt John, but there was no use in his friend trying to help him with this. It was too late. He was going to be married tomorrow and would forever live like his tormented mother. Forced into a loveless marriage, walking the empty corridors and waiting for death to take him.

“Sherlock?” John was closer, this realisation made Sherlock open his eyes. Finding caring blue ones watching him from the edge of his bed. “How much have you had to drink?”

Sherlock groaned, covering his face with his hands again. He couldn’t stand how compassionate his friend was. John was always worrying and seemed to notice things about him that no one else could.

A warm hand pressed to Sherlock’s shoulder, making the Prince look up at his friend again. “There’s nothing I can do, John.” He admitted, a frightening amount of honesty taking over his features. “This is my life now.”

“It’s not right, it’s-“

“-It is what it is.” Sherlock cut in, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed as he faced John. “I’m sure you didn’t dream of being a guard for your whole life. Forced to protect rich spoiled brats over the lives of your friends and family.” 

John glared at his friend, for the first time his concern had shaped into disappointment. He took in a deep breath, staring down at Sherlock’s chest, just to avoid his dark eyes. “I don’t consider you as a spoiled brat, you’re more of my friend.”

Sherlock shook his head, “You wouldn’t be here if we didn’t pay your bills.” 

“Shut up.” John snapped.

The Prince scoffed, “I reckon you’d rather be a dancer, or an entertainer. People would be throwing money at you, tempting you to strip down to nothing-“

“Sherlock stop messing around!”

“All the girls would go crazy-“ The Prince giggled.

“Stop!”

“They’d want to see you. Broad chest, big muscles-“

John shouted again, trying to shut his friend up. Although Sherlock was mocking him, loving the way John hated being teased.

“Sherlock! Stop talking! You’re so full of shit-“

“Even Grandmas would watch!” Sherlock continued, pushing his hands over his ears to block out John’s disrupting complaints. “If you’re lucky I reckon the cook would visit you. We both know she’s dying for some action. I wonder if you’d do private dances. I reckon there’s a market for it-“

John tried talking over Sherlock, but he couldn’t seem to shut him up. He lunged forward grabbing Sherlock’s hands and pulling them away from his ears. “Sherlock. Listen to me, you need to stop talking.” He urged.

Sherlock smirked, before suddenly spinning his hands out of John’s hold and grabbing onto his wrists and tugging him forward. The both of them fell to the bed, as John lost his balance and ended up falling on top of Sherlock.

John lifted his head up, as he felt the irritating Prince’s firm chest underneath his. He could feel Sherlock laughing, as John tried to pry his wrists free from his grip. “You’re so gross.” John mumbled, finding Sherlock’s eyes as he found the soft crinkle in the corner of his eyes. The flash of teeth underneath his pink lips. The once neat curls around his face, were already tossed and crushed.

Sherlock didn’t ease his grip and instead, leaned forward “I could write you a shining recommendation.” The Prince continued, although the edge of humour was lost in his voice. Instead, he was speaking so softly, almost whispering as he watched his guard with curious eyes.

The heat between them became unbearable underneath the padded attire John’s uniform required him to wear. He could feel the hard lines of Sherlock’s lithe body against him, as he briefly worried about hurting him with his more muscular build. But he didn’t see any pain in Sherlock’s open expression.

“I’m sure you could get a job anywhere after that.” Sherlock mumbled, his eyes scanning across John’s face. He started to notice things that he hadn’t before, like finding a soft hint of green surrounding the edge of his eyes. Sherlock then looked down at John’s parted lips, he suddenly seemed so alluring. Tempting Sherlock with something that he hadn’t even realised that he wanted. Never had Sherlock kissed a man. Or even thought of a man in that way. He had noticed men looking at him, he had even noticed John staring at him a little longer than necessary when Sherlock was getting dressed. He hadn’t thought anything of it.

Until now.

John shuffled uncomfortably, as he tried to release his wrists from Sherlock’s hold. Although the Prince continued to hold him, searching John’s face as the guard looked away. Catching sight of Sherlock’s slender neck, following the movement as he swallowed, the muscular strands in his throat sliding underneath his tender skin. John wet his lip unconsciously, hearing the unmistakable thump of his heart racing steadily. He knew he was in a dangerous position. John didn’t want to lose this job, or this friendship. Not with a stupid little desire to kiss the most well-known man in their country. He would never get another job, he would be imprisoned, or even killed, he would lose Sherlock, lose his mother, his sister and his freedom. All because of the gentle smile over Sherlock’s lips, his soft gaze and intoxicating scent.

John had to get out, quick.

The guard attempted to free his wrists once again, but Sherlock tightened his hold, as he challenged John with a firm stare. The silence was becoming suffocating, John didn’t know what to say, he felt like only their bodies could get themselves out of this mess, whereas words would only solidify their intentions.

The pressure around his wrist eased, John went to move it when he suddenly felt the faint trace of Sherlock’s thumb sliding alongside his wrist. John dared himself to look at Sherlock, finding his dark eyes locked on him. John’s throat felt dry, he found himself trapped in the Prince’s handsome stare. The heat between them had soaked into his bones and he found himself immobile, unable to pry himself off Sherlock.

Sherlock didn’t seem to mind, as he was awfully quiet for someone that tended to talk endlessly.

All they had were these nights together, in the morning light they were divided by class. Isolated by their roles and responsibilities. Sherlock almost felt giddy having John all to himself. Having him here, lying across his body and taking his time to appreciate his beauty. A wave of insanity overcame Sherlock as his eyes flicked down to John’s lips. He wondered what they would feel like against his. He wondered what John would do if he were to kiss him. With that thought in mind, Sherlock released John’s hand, the Prince moving his hand to capture John’s firm jaw.

Always the perfect soldier, John’s face didn’t reveal anything. It gave Sherlock the motivation to shift forward, fitting an elbow behind him as he leaned up to stare at John with hazy lust-filled eyes. Sherlock closed the distance between them by bringing their lips together. He paused briefly, as his warm lips pressed against his best friends. A burst of electricity singed his lips, his fingertips then easily slid into John’s hair as he sucked on the guard’s lower lip.

John felt his stomach flip as Sherlock’s lips touched his, it made his mind run wild as an impossible heat spread across his body. He didn’t take much coaxing after Sherlock started to kiss him deeply, John found himself chasing after his kiss.

Sherlock chuckled breathlessly as he nipped John’s lip with his teeth, drawing out a moan from his guard. The Prince let his legs slide apart as John settled in between them. Sherlock’s leg’s tightening around John’s hips, as he hauled him in for another kiss.

The guard pressed his hand against Sherlock’s chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. He didn’t even recognise that Sherlock was tugging against his jacket, trying to take it off his shoulders until the Prince broke their kiss. John easily complied, tossing his jacket to the floor and starting on his shirt buttons. Sherlock attempted to remove his own clothes but couldn’t take his eyes off John as more of his tanned skin was revealed. It had Sherlock’s mind skipping over, as his fingers fumbled pointlessly at his own buttons.

John finished removing his shirt and watched Sherlock struggle for a moment before assisting him to take off the overly priced fabric that clung tightly to his chest. Sherlock watched in awe as John moved swiftly, undoing his buttons quickly. Sherlock’s eyes slipped lower, as he caught sight of the guard’s broad chest. He admired the strength of John’s body, he wanted to touch, he wanted to taste. His eyes lingered over John’s shoulder, whereby he noticed the small stitching of a scar. The longer he stared, the more he wondered as he followed the silvery fibres, that healed his wound.

The guard took in the sight of Sherlock lying lazily underneath him after freeing him from his shirt. He looked up, catching sight of Sherlock’s wondering eyes. It made his stomach tighten in fear, as he tensed. Sherlock noticed his discomfort instantly, as he leaned forward sealing their lips together as the Prince wrapped his arms around John’s broad shoulders.

John’s insecurity crept up on him, no one had seen his chest since he was shot three years ago. He wanted to be the only one who had to stare at it, he didn’t feel right putting anyone else through the pain of seeing his disfigured body.

“I can put my shirt on if it’s easier?” John said softly.

Sherlock pulled back, meeting John’s sad eyes. “Don’t you dare.” He stated, “You’re beautiful John Watson.”

John looked away as Sherlock took in the flush of pink spreading across his chest and neck. He smiled at the sight, leaning up to bring their lips together again.

The guard sighed as he tangled his hand in the Prince’s hair, feeling the smooth curls wrap around his fingers. He ground his hips down against Sherlock’s, causing them both to gasp at the sudden burst of pleasure. Sherlock leaned back, catching his breath as John stepped off the bed, undoing his trousers and shoving them to the floor. Sherlock met his eyes again. Noticing how much darker they were than usual. John moved towards Sherlock again, standing in between his thighs, as he gave the Prince a seductive smile as he reached down and undid Sherlock’s pants.

Sherlock wanted to look at John’s newly exposed skin but couldn’t take his eyes away from John’s own as he watched him intently. John slowly pulled down Sherlock’s zipper, before tugging on the soft fabric and baring the Prince. Sherlock inhaled deeply, as he watched John’s blue eyes drift across his exposed body. He noticed John’s eyes lingering over his dick. He shifted, sitting up as he scooted back further onto the bed.

John kneeled to the bed, fitting himself between Sherlock’s spread thighs as he brackets his arms around Sherlock. He pushed their lips together once again, getting lost in the sensation. Sherlock started to moan, as he wrapped his legs around John, pulling him in closer.

Sherlock could barely think of anything else, except for how much he wanted to feel John inside him. He clung desperately onto John’s shoulders, wondering how he had avoided noticing how shockingly handsome John Watson was. He wanted to kick himself for not doing this sooner.

John’s hand traced along Sherlock’s neck, continuing down his chest until it settled low on his hip. Sherlock felt each centimetre that John’s hand travelled, he couldn’t escape the sensations that it elicited. He was completely swept up in the kiss, as he registered John’s thigh scraping against his.

The guard pushed his tongue inside Sherlock’s mouth, tracing over his lips before sliding along his tongue. He hummed softly, tasting the expensive red wine. He moved his hand across from Sherlock’s hip, as he circled the base of Sherlock’s cock.

The prince yelped, his eyes snapping over as he glared at John.

John returned his gaze, letting a teasing smile slip over his lips. Sherlock stared down between their naked bodies, catching sight of his cock in John’s hand, and a glimpse of John’s own erection.

The guard tightened his hold, forcing out another whine from Sherlock’s lips, before John started stroking him longingly. Sherlock’s chest started to rise and fall rapidly as his hand clung desperately into the sheets. He had never felt so horny before, it was like everything in his body screamed out for release. He wanted to bury himself in John, feel his skin against his and kiss his lips.

“Christ.” Sherlock gasped, as John rubbed his thumb along the top of Sherlock’s cock. The Prince knew he was close, he didn’t want to be close yet. He suddenly felt so young and immature. “Wait.” He panted out, sitting up slightly as the muscles in his stomach tensed. “I want to feel you, John.”

John stalled his action, looking up at Sherlock in surprise. “Are you sure?” Sherlock nodded briskly, still trying to get his breathing under control. John gave him a firm stare, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea?”

“Please.” Sherlock begged, “This is just between you and me, I promise.”

The guard sighed, screwing his eyes shut for a moment, before snapping them open. “Fine.”

Sherlock’s heart leapt at the agreement, he blinked in surprise as John manoeuvred his way around the bed. He settled himself between Sherlock’s thighs, resting them around his hips as he soaked his fingers with salvia. Sherlock stared in confusion, before John suddenly pressed his finger inside Sherlock’s arse. “Ow.” The Prince muttered.

John chuckled, “I’m being gentle.”

Sherlock relaxed, as John started to massage him, slowly easing his fingers in deeper before adding in a second one. Sherlock’s erected flagged at first but was slowly filling out again as John set his fingers up into a steady rhythm.

Only a few minutes later, Sherlock was withering on the bed moaning desperately. John smiled at the sight of him, before taking himself in hand and giving himself a few strokes. Sherlock frowned, as John removed his fingers, but soon noticed where John’s hand had moved to. The sight made Sherlock blush, as he had never seen another man jerking off before.

Sherlock jumped as John’s eyes suddenly slipped to his, catching him staring. John smirked, before settling himself between Sherlock’s thighs once again. He leaned his body across Sherlock’s, resting on his elbow, as his other hand guided his cock into Sherlock’s arse.

The Prince gasped, clinging tightly onto John, as the older man slid in deeply. He moaned loudly as he felt John’s cock filling him up. The guard bit his lip as he tried to keep his movements slow and controlled, even as everything inside of him begged to rush into things.

Sherlock whined softly, his hips shifting as John settled in all the way. He looked back up at his best friend, feeling a strange lightness in his chest. There was something so comforting in the gentle look of John’s eyes, he watched at his guard pulled back again before thrusting forward. Sherlock gasped, as a warm heat spread over his groin. He moaned, as John moved faster. Setting up a firm rhythm that was driving Sherlock crazy. It was just a touch too slow, and it made Sherlock whither underneath him. John chuckled, before moving even faster, causing Sherlock to groan loudly, as he tightened his hands around John’s shoulder. He could faintly feel the rough stretch of skin over John’s scarred shoulder. But he didn’t dare stare at it, in fear of upsetting John again.

John suddenly wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s abandoned cock, pumping it to full hardness as the teen whined again. John moved inside Sherlock with the same rhythm that he was stroking him with. He was dragging his hips longingly inside the Prince, chasing after both of their orgasms. He couldn’t help but moan at the sight of Sherlock’s head thrown back, and the mess of curls over his forehead.

The guard leaned forward sealing their lips together, as he stabbed his hips forward with fast shallow thrusts. He could feel Sherlock tensing underneath him, as the Prince started to still. John pumped Sherlock’s cock firmly, as he kissed underneath his jaw.

Suddenly Sherlock came, groaning loudly as he spilled into John’s fist and over their stomachs. He sighed, settling back against the mattress as his arse clenched around John’s cock. John was startled by the sudden sensation that was overwhelming as it brought him to the edge. He bit down on Sherlock’s shoulder as he pushed deeply inside the Prince, coming inside him.

A soft silence settled around them, as Sherlock felt John softening inside him. John pressed his lips to the Prince’s cheek, as Sherlock turned his head to capture his lips in a seductive kiss. John ran his hand down Sherlock’s arm, wishing that the moment could last forever. But already his thoughts were turning against him.

John still couldn’t quite comprehend the repercussions of doing this, he didn’t want to think about tomorrow, about the wedding and the boring life Sherlock will have to suffer through.

“What’s the matter?” Sherlock wondered, noticing that John seemed down.

John shook his head, “Nothing, just… worrying pointlessly about tomorrow.”

Sherlock frowned, “That’s not your issue to deal with. Nothing changes for you tomorrow.”

The guard sat back a bit, feeling a little out of place. “Sorry, I’m just worried about you.”

The Prince scoffed, ducking out of John’s touch, and pulling himself off his limp cock as he moved to pick up his clothes.

“Sherlock, what’s the problem with that?” John asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sherlock muttered under his breath, wiping his formal dress shirt over his stomach, before yanking a loose-fitting t-shirt of his head. “Nothing. It’s- It’s fucked. That’s all.” The Prince, slipped into underpants, trying to avoid staring at his friend. He couldn’t look at John’s nurturing gaze anymore. He didn’t want him to care, or to worry. He just wanted him to be happy. He knew this was going to fuck up their friendship, he never should have kissed him.

Warm arms circled Sherlock’s hips, as John wrapped him in a hug. Sherlock went to say something, before the tempting caress of John’s hands made him stop. Instead, Sherlock buried his head into John’s shoulder, feeling a sudden onslaught of tears, as he clung desperately to him. He felt safe in this moment at least, felt like he was protected.

They both stumbled back to the bed, as Sherlock nestled himself in John’s arms, savouring the warmth. John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s dark hair, feeling hopeful about tomorrow.

-

The sun snuck underneath the curtain, casting shadows over the wide-open spaces of the bedroom. Everything was glowing in the room, it felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time as John opened his eyes. There was a comforting sense of warmness the circled him, the room smelt faintly like lavender and it only took John’s mind a few moments before he remembered where he was, and what had happened last night.

He closed his eyes, to remember the smooth feeling of Sherlock’s skin and the blue of his eyes. He lifted his head off the pillow and stared at the space beside him.

His stomach sunk, as an icy chill spread down his spine. The bed was empty.

John’s head started to ache, as a combination of panic and fear tightened around his heart. He couldn’t breathe as he started to worry, swinging his legs out of bed, he quickly pulled on his clothes. Finding the torn plastic cover of what surely contained Sherlock’s wedding suit. He blinked at the sight, wondering whether Sherlock had truly gone through with it. He didn’t think he would. He didn’t want to.

Suddenly the door burst open, and John’s heart leapt with the hope that it was Sherlock

But his eyes soon landed on a young maid, who eyed John’s disarrayed clothes with disgust. “You’re late.” She sneered, before spinning out of the room.

A wave of nausea washed over John, as he figured that the maid knew they slept together last night. He wondered whether Sherlock would say something to anyone. He didn’t want his family to know, he couldn’t bear his mother’s disappointment. He started to pull on his clothes from yesterday, when he realised the time and what he was running late for. The wedding. 

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on how this goes, I might continue writing their story.


End file.
